Point of No Return
by SheLovesGreenTea
Summary: Tony is driven to the brink. When Gibbs explodes on him, he may just take that final step...Can Gibbs stop his Senior field Agent in time? Hurt!Tony and Papa!Gibbs. Warning for attempted suicide! Rated T for suicidal themes and minor language. CHAPTER 4 NOW UP!
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer:_ I do NOT own NCIS, nor make money off this story.

**Warning:** If you're sensitive or squeamish, please refrain from reading this fic.

Don't forget to review!

Anthony Dinozzo was no longer the cocky arrogant man everyone thought he'd be. You'd have to have everything in order to be that kind of person- or at least think that you do. No, that was no longer the case.

He didn't know how long it had been, sitting here at his desk, contemplating about everything. _Probably hours,_ he mused. Perspective is a dangerous thing, you see. If one puts everything into perspective, right and wrong diminish into nothing, and sense of _worth_ becomes questionable…like his life.

People started to shuffle into the office, and Tony once again noted that he hadn't slept because of his insomnia. _What's the point of even waking up?_ his muse grumbled. Gibbs would have head slapped him hard for sure for even thinking that thought, but now… he wasn't so sure.

McGee and Ziva walked in and set their belongings on their desks, muttering a monotone "Good morning". As if their mornings had been anything good, anyway. Gibbs marched in at the time he always did, ignoring his team. The prickly marine had become even pricklier lately. He was on edge 24/7 for a while now and sometimes Tony thought that he looked for things to express his temper as much as possible. For one thing, he yelled at Palmer for well… being Palmer.

But maybe it wasn't Gibbs. Maybe the source of the man's temper was himself. Everything and anything he seemed to do ticked the man off. No matter how hard he tried to get on his Boss's good side (good side meaning normal side) it backfired on him. Tony knew only rare things pleased Gibbs, but it seemed like he was permanently stuck on Gibbs's I'm-pissed-at-you radar.

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs barked, slapping a file onto his desk.

"Yes Boss," he said dully. Tony didn't bother to ask things anymore. Everything full on came without needing an invitation, so he grew tired of giving one.

"You're not in the third grade anymore. I shouldn't have to keep asking you to give me something other than worthless crap!" he snapped.

Tony muttered another "Yes Boss" before re-working on the report. It had been almost an hour and a half before he finally finished the damn thing. He rubbed his eye with his palm, trying to get wary-ness to leave him be. The wheels in his head weren't churning properly because of the lack of sleep. It wasn't like he didn't try. His mind was like a prostitute, constantly longing for attention and it just wouldn't shut up. Some things just seemed to be automatic. He sighed. Again with his stupid excuses. Tony mentally slapped himself. Who was he kidding? It wasn't from lack of sleep. He just needed to suck it up, stop being a whiny baby, and except the fact that he just wasn't good enough like a man. _Worthless crap_ indeed.

"David, McGee, Dinozzo, grab your gear!" Gibbs demanded marching towards the elevator.

Tony had to pinch himself to check that he's not dreaming. He was pretty sure his gear had been collecting dust. He gave his first genuine small smile in the past couple of days. Now was his chance to prove to Gibbs that he wasn't a total failure.

**(JUMP AHEAD)**

Tony entered the bedroom and his eyes almost instantly locked onto the bloody, lifeless, body on the floor. The body turned out to be a twenty-three year-old John Brooks, who's cause of death was predicted to be suicide. But in their line of work, it was never that simple.

He immediately set to work, taking pictures of John's body, the gun, the blood, etc.

"Very cowardly," Ziva commented.

"What, McGee's character?" he naturally joked. McGee glared at him disapprovingly before continuing to interview a woman.

"No," she said, "the prediction of Brooks's death. If he really did commit suicide, then it is the most cowardly way to die."

Tony's eyebrows knotted together, "How so?"

Their eyes met. "In my country, you are lucky to be alive. Especially living in America, where freedom and opportunity knocks on your window."

"It's 'door' not 'window' Zee-vah," he snorted, before sobering up, "and what if Mr. Brooks here had a very good reason to end his life?"

Ziva shook her head. "Still, he should have faced whatever he had to face like a man."

He nodded. "Aand what if he no longer has the strength to face it? What if it's something he couldn't face, but accept?"

Ziva narrowed her eyes and looked at him questioningly. Tony felt a smidge of victory when he justified the reason for suicide. Although, deep down, he would've liked an answer to his question, if there was one. Tony opened his mouth to say something, but lost his foot and went tumbling down. He hit his on what seemed to be a sharp edge of a coffee table, and he felt something wet and warm underneath him. It took a while for the blurriness to fade and he was once again aware of his surroundings. He looked to see Ziva and Probie looking down at him jaws slacked, eyes wide with horror. He looked at them bewilderedly before looking down. His eyes locked with John's cold gray ones. Tony yelped and instinctively scampered away from the body, ignoring the throbbing of his head.

He'd just contaminated a crime scene.

_Shit. _

"What the hell are you doing!?"

All three agents looked fearfully at Gibbs, but none as fearful as Dinozzo.

Tony backed away on the floor even more when he saw his angry boss marching towards him, but he couldn't move anymore when his back met a wall.

"B-b-boss I-I tripped I'm s-s-

His stuttering halted when Gibbs slammed his hand above his head, making him jump out of his skin.

He didn't seem to notice the way Dinozzo shielded his face. "I don't want a damn apology!" Gibbs roared, making everyone who was witnessing flinch also. "I want you to do your damn job, but clearly you can't do anything right! You're a disappointment," he spat. Gibbs didn't see the broken look in his eyes. He was too lost in his rage. "Now, get out of my sight," he growled.

Tony looked down and got up from the floor, exiting the room, each movement mechanical.

** …**

How he wound up in his apartment was a blur. He didn't remember. His heart stopped and his blood ran cold. He couldn't breathe; the only man he had ever looked up to in his life despised him. _You can't do anything right. You're a disappointment._

Tony let out a ragged sigh then slumped down on his couch.

He failed.

He was a failure.

He was a senior field agent, and senior field agents weren't supposed to contaminate crime scenes. Even probie's more anxious that McGee wouldn't commit such blunder! He let his team down. He let Gibbs, his mentor, leader, hero, heck even family, down. _You're a disappointment._

He cradled his head in his hands. _You can't do anything right._

It's one thing for his own demons and even his bastard father to say that he's a disappointment, but for _Gibbs _to voice all that's been said and thought, makes it realer. Gibbs was right, he was a disappointment. He couldn't do anything right. He fucked up so badly that he wouldn't be surprised if Gibbs fired his stupid worthless ass. It hit him hard. _You're a disappointment._

His heart felt like it had burst in side his chest and he's been left to bleed out. The disgust in Gibbs's tone alone made him want to shoot himself. Tony took out his gun. He studied the details of the metal work, how heavy it weighed, how his finger felt on the trigger, a tool that had brought both salvation and death. Its only purpose was to kill and harm, yet for the better or worse. Intentions aside, he was no better than the killer(s) because he committed the same sin. Blood was on his hands no matter what. And no amount of soap or water could wash it away.

_You're a disappointment._

Tony clenched his eyes and brought the gun to his face. The tip of the pistol touched his cheek, and the cool metal slid down along his jaw and up to the side of his temple, before sliding down once more to his mouth. He opened his mouth and wrapped his lips around the cool tip of the weapon. He released a shuddering breath. At first, he questioned how some people could actually take that final step, deliver that stab, swallow those pills, let go of the rope, sink into the water, jump off the ledge…pull the trigger. But now it made perfect sense to him.

_You're a disappointment._

Tony clenched his eyes tighter before un-mouthing the weapon. He let it plop on the couch beside him. At this point, he envied John Brooks. He chuckled hollowly. He couldn't even complete the simple task of taking his own life. And to think his name on the failure scale couldn't rise any higher. _You can't do anything right._

Tony got up and went to his bathroom. He studied his complexion in the mirror. The purple bags underneath his eyes, the pale clammy skin, and the empty, hollow look in his faded olive orbs… it certainly wasn't the face of a lady killer. He looked like shit, but looking didn't even compare to feeling, or thinking, or his purpose to himself and others. His eyes traveled to the still-bleeding cut on the side of his forehead. He watched as the trickle of blood slide down and caressed the right side of his face, and gathered at the bottom of his chin, before dripping onto the counter. He wiped the blood and frowned when it stopped flowing. Tony took out his knife. Now, he couldn't experiment on his face because people would notice…but he'd have to go the traditional way. He rolled up one sleeve and shuddered when the cool blade touch his mid-arm. _You can't do anything right. _

Well, this time he would.

Tony dug the knife deeper until it pierced his skin, a droplet of red surprise resurfaced. He then dragged the knife to the right, hissing loudly in pain, and was rewarded when crimson blood began oozing out and trailing down to the lower depths of his arm. _You're a disappointment. _He made another one, right below the first one, but he sliced slower this time. More blood oozed out and blended in with the prior red trails. Tony studied his handiwork. This stinging pain had somehow…_helped_ him. It drowned out Gibbs's voice by stinging more. Even though this cut hurt more at the moment, he knew his body would forgive itself and heal, but his mind wouldn't be so forgiving. No, Gibbs's words had stung him to the core and confirmed all that his demons have said. That would stay with him forever. He would have to keep on drawing more physical wounds to numb out the mental ones. It helped so far. Tony gingerly wiped the blood after it stopped flowing, (which was a long time) but he didn't wrap or tend to them. He hadn't even bothered changing his bloodied clothes. He laid on the couch and shut out the voices in his head by focusing on the stinging feeling, and _only_ the stinging feeling...

_TBC_

Dont forget to review, beautiful souls!


	2. Chapter 2

Previous warnings and disclaimers apply. **PLEASE read the note at the bottom.** ESPECIALLY the reviewers. Thank you. Enjoy.

It had probably been a week that his self-loathing continued. Tony didn't keep track. He had this silly hope in mind that an insuperable case would venture along, and only he would have the final answer; the one that solved the case and Gibbs would caress the back of his hair and shine that rare warm smile of his. Respect, love, and _pride_ would shine brightly in his eyes, and he'd say _Atta boy. _

Tony gripped his raw tender arm, the wounds hissing at intrusion. He strengthened his grip on the tight hold until that stupid fantasy passed. It didn't completely leave him be. The reminiscent longing for approval still lingered in his heart.

_Suck it up, DiNozzo!_ He angrily mused.

There was no use sitting here and visualizing something that would refuse to exist. It did happen once though, but that was Hailey's Comet, and it wasn't going to ever happen again. This he knew.

"Hey Tony?"

Tony snapped out of his thoughts and looked at McGee, giving a nod of his head to show that he was listening.

"Abby wants to see you. She didn't say why."

"Thanks McGee."

Tony got up, ignoring his aching body, and went over to Abby's lab. Strangely enough, there was no Heavy Metal or Screamo pumping out of the speakers, and Tony grew concerned. The happy Goth turned around, and instead of giving him a hug or a smile, she looked at him without that cheerful gleam in her eyes he was used to seeing. The apprehensive feeling in the pit of his stomach grew.

"What's wrong, Abs?" he asked.

Abby studied him, tilting her head to one side causing her pony tails to swish.

"What's wrong Tony?" she asked sadly.

That question opened a whirlwind of answers in his head. _I'm a failure. I'm a disappointment. I can't do anything right. I let my team down. I'm-_

"I'm fine Abs. Nothing's wrong," he said, flashing a fake smile.

"Don't lie to me," she said worriedly.

The scars on his arms tingled.

"Don't be such a worry-wart. I'm fine. Everything's fine."

She looked at him questioningly. "If you ever want to talk, I'm for you Tony. We all are."

He sighed and forced another smile. "Thanks Abs."

"What are you doing here, DiNozzo?"

Tony's heart lurched forward and turned to Gibbs. It took every ounce of will power not to shrink under the man's gaze.

"I needed to talk to him, Gibbs," Abby interjected.

The cold stare didn't falter. "Now that play times over, get back to work DiNozzo."

Tony clenched his eyes shut at his bitter tone and muttered a, "Yes Boss." He quickly exited the lab.

Abby turned to Gibbs, baffled. "Why do treat him this way?"

Gibbs narrowed his eyes. "Treat who, Abby?"

Abby crossed her arms. "You know who I'm talking about Gibbs! Tony! You've been treating him like complete and utter shit for no reason, and it has to stop!"

Gibbs hovered over her and his eyes bore into hers. "If you want to baby DiNozzo, then go ahead. But I'm not going easy on him when he makes rookie mistakes!"

"Can't you see how much you're hurting him, Gibbs?" Abby cried.

"That's enough." He said, in a tone that made no room for arguments.

Abby blinked away the tears forming in her eyes. "Fine," she said bitterly, "But Ducky wants to see you."

Gibbs went to the ME's lab without another word.

** ...**

"Ah Jethro, please have a seat." Ducky greeted, putting away his surgical tools.

"I don't have time for stories, Duck," he said flatly, but nonetheless sat down on one of the autopsy tables, anyway.

"I'll make this quick," the ME responded, his voice growing serious. "I take it the little talk with Abby didn't persuade you?"

Gibbs gazed at him questioningly. "Persuade me to do what?"

"Persuade you to help fix young Anthony," he retorted.

Gibbs shook his head. What was up with everyone today?

"There is nothing to fix, Duck." He said defensively. "I don't know what everyone is jumping at me for. He messed up and I gave my feedback as his _boss_ because that's my _job_."

Doctor Mallard's eyes grew dark and he stepped in front of him. "You know it isn't as simple as that," he scoffed. "Are you that oblivious, Jethro? The lad's horrific depression has been practically _radiating_ off his body, say thanks to your patronizing comments on that suicide case, which was an _accident_, might I add. Lord knows what the lad's been going through, and the last thing he needed was your vile _feedback_," he spat, "to top it all off."

_What?_

"What do mean 'going through', Duck?" he asked.

"I don't know, Jethro," Ducky sighed, "but whatever it is has caused the boy not to sleep. He's become noticeably thinner, and I even spotted traces of blood on his clothing. Daily," he added.

"All I'm saying, Jethro, is for you to help him. So I suggest that you get off your damn high horse and go be there for him. He needs you." With one final glance, Ducky turned around and started to walk away. "The last thing we all need is young Anthony on my autopsy table," he concluded over his shoulder. And soon, Ducky was gone.

Gibbs stared down at his lap. Memories flashed in his head of him yelling at every single member in his team. Mainly of him yelling at McGee, Ziva, and Tony….gosh Tony. He remembered the way he backed away from him frighteningly and the way he shielded his face as if Gibbs was going to strike him… Gibbs couldn't swallow down the guilt that flashed up from his heart. His actions had been completely unnecessary. How could he be so vile to his own team? How could he yell at them like that?

Ducky and Abby were right. He did treat his team like shit. How could he be so heartless? So blind?

_You can't do anything right! You're a disappointment! _

Gibbs ran a hand over his mouth as his own words echoed throughout his mind. How could he say those things to him!? He knew Tony always masked his true feelings behind those jokes and smiles of his. Gibbs had been one of the few people to always see what he was feeling, but now it had been too late. He had hurt his team and he had hurt Tony in more ways than one. And he knew that it sure as hell was going to take more than an apology to make it all up. He had been so wrong. He fucked up so badly. It was all his fault.

"_The last thing we all need is young Anthony on my autopsy table."_

What did Ducky mean by that? Tony being on his autopsy table? The only way for someone to _be_ on Duck's autopsy table is for them to actually be dea-

_No!_

Gibbs got up quickly and made his way to find Tony. Many dreadful assumptions and gore-filled scenarios played in his head, and it only succeeded in making his heart thump louder, and his pace move faster. As Gibbs exited the lab, he delivered a sharp head slap to the back of his head, vowing to never again hurt his precious team and the man whom he regarded as a son.

…

Tony gripped the edge of the sink until his knuckles turned white. He had been at his desk completing another report when suddenly a trillion thoughts assailed his mind. He had then quickly rushed to the bathroom to find some privacy.

_You can't do anything right. _

"Not again," he gasped, and gripped the sink even tighter-if that were possible. He honestly didn't know how much of this he could take.

"_GET OUT!" Anthony DiNozzo Senior screamed, throwing a glass bottle, which Tony effectively ducked under, shattering into a million glistening pieces as soon as it made contact with the floor. _

"_D-dad please," young Tony sobbed._

"_IM NOT YOUR FATHER YOU HEAR ME!? I'D RATHER DIE THAN HAVE YOU AS A SON! YOU KILLED YOUR MOTHER!"_

"_**You're a disappointment."**__ Gibbs and Senior said simultaneously._

"Oh God," Tony choked out, before hastily fumbling for the knife in his pocket. Once he got it free, he switched the blade open and slashed it once, twice, three times on his already scarred arm. He breathed heavily and watched the blood ooze out, covering the red scars that littered his arms. He felt the raging mental storm secede and he turned to get a paper towel when his eyes fell upon an all-to-familiar figure.

"Gibbs." he whispered, and the knife fell to the floor with a _clunk._

First things first, I am simply BLOWN AWAY by your guys's reviews, follows, and favorites. Seriously. Thank you!

Now to answer some question.

Firstly, this is a FATHER/SON fic. So no, Tim, Ziva, Abby, Ducky, etc, won't be saving him. Only Gibbs. I'm sorry if that upsets you or if it was unclear, but i planned it that way from the start. And for those who are say it is "unrealistic" for Gibbs to shift into "dad mode", I disagree. Gibbs may be bastard, but he's not a monster or a heartless human being. And I'm pretty sure he'll know when he screws up, ESPECIALLY if someone points it out to him (In this case, Ducky). There is no one solid way a character is portrayed in fanfics. **The way I see the NCIS characters are different from other writers. No one is the same, **and this is how i see/portray them to be. I don't know... _maybe_ it is OOC, but I wrote this fic for the fans who don't get enough Tony and Gibbs father/son action, including myself. I apologize if this isn't what you wanted, but i thank you dearly for giving this fic a shot in the first place.

Love and thank you guys!

May peace be with you all.

~Stay tuned. :)


	3. Chapter 3

I suggest listening to Hans Zimmer's **"TIME"**. It really gives an awesome feel and flow.

Previous warnings and Disclaimers apply.

There's lot's of FLUFF in this chappie. Jus' warnin' you.

Please no hate. If you don't like it, don't read it and keep it to yourself.

Tony ran. He ran as fast as his legs could take him. His heart was racing wildly and it felt like it would burst at any moment. Gibbs- the man who he tried so _desperately_ to show his strengths _- _witnessed him at his weakest, most pathetic state. Tony pushed down the bile that fought its way up. He was so disgusted with himself, so _embarrassed_ that his boss just saw him slitting his wrist like a sissy from a cliché movie. The man, whom he put on a pedestal, now knew one of his darkest secrets. It was a nightmare. One big, bad, ugly nightmare and Tony couldn't wait to wake up.

He violently jerked open his car door open and hopped right in. He didn't even bother putting on his seat belt. He just slammed on the gas and drove the hell out of there.

_You can't do anything right._

Yeah, that's right, but ridding his useless poor self of this world, doing his boss and team a favor, _was_ right. Today he would finish what he started.

…

Gibbs stared at the spot Tony, _his_ Tony, had been standing in. To see his Senior Field Agent, who used to be full of smiles, jokes, and movie references, now so beaten, miserable, and _wounded, _struck him to the core. How could he have not seen this coming when he could tell who murdered who from a mile away? How had he not noticed the dark bruised under eye circles, the loss of weight, the strange silence, the dark depressive aura, the…blood?

He would have applauded DiNozzo's mad-masquerading skills if his heart wasn't so heavy laden. Once again he hid under those occasional fake smiles and the "I'm fine's," not wanting to show any weakness, when in reality, he was broken.

Gibbs still couldn't believe his stupidity and overall cruelness. His stubbornness was like a brick wall, and Tony was suffering, silently, just on the other side of it. The whole. Damn. Time. He did this to Tony. It was his entire damn fault just because he couldn't control his stupid temper. It got the best of him and now it got the best of his agent.

Gibbs's heart hammered and he ran after Tony, praying to God that it wasn't too late.

** ... **

He tumbled into his apartment, not bothering to lock the door. He'd make it easy for the people to come and carry out his body. No use being a burden even when he's dead.

_You're a disappointment. You can't do anything right. You're a disappointmentYou can't do anything rightYou're a disappointmentYoucan'tdoanythingright._

_Disappointment. _

_Disappointment._

_**Disapointment!**_

"SHUT UP!" Tony roared, clamping his hands over his ears.

He couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't _fight_ anymore.

Tony let out several gasps and fumbled for his gun. Once the weapon was in his shaky hands, he pressed the muzzle into his temple, deep enough to form a bruise. He looked at his crappy apartment. It wasn't the most pleasant scene for his last sight on Earth, but it was better than looking in the mirror.

He thought of Abby and her warms hugs and smiles. He thought of Palmer and his funny heartwarming awkwardness. He thought of Ducky and his wisdom and bizarre stories. He thought of McGee and his geek-tech ramble he never knew he was going to miss so much. He thought of Ziva and the many playful fights they had, just like with Kate. He thought of all the fun memories filled with laughter, pain, and joy. Tony let out a ragged breath as his heart contracted painfully. Lastly, he thought of Gibbs and how he was _always there_ to head-slap him when he needed it most.

_Can't headslap me outta this one, Boss._

Tony rested his finger on the trigger, and let out a shaky sigh. This was it.

_5….4…3…..2-_

"Tony!"

He opened his eyes and looked at his summoner. He couldn't believe it. Could things get any worse?

Gibbs had his hands out in front of him and stepped cautiously closer to Tony.

"Put the gun down." His voice sounded calm and collected, but he wasn't anything of the kind underneath the surface of his tone. He was downright _terrified_.

Tony let out a sob and shook his head from side to side.

"Put the gun down, Tony." Gibbs said softly. "You don't need it."

"I…c-can't B-boss…it's…too...m-much," He gasped sorrowfully.

Gibbs nodded slowly and stepped closer. "Yes you can. Put down the gun."

"Dammit Gibbs I-I can't!" He yelled, "I c-can't f-fight anymore!"

"Yes you can!" Gibbs exclaimed. "You fought the damn plaque when your survival rate was fifteen percent! Now I don't care if it's fifteen or negative three, you will fight and get through this!"

Tony felt anger bubble inside of him. "You have no fucking idea how I feel!" he cried.

Gibbs fixed him with a glare. "You think you're the only one who thought about ending all the pain?"

Tony blinked away tears and looked down at his feet, but his hold didn't falter.

Gibbs's gaze hardened, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. He stepped closer to Tony, his eyes never leaving the boy. "Stand down, Anthony. That's an order."

Tony let out a harsh sob, and immediately Gibbs's gaze softened. He took in his agent; his mused hair, chattering teeth, bloodshot eyes, shaking form, and the gun pressed to the side of his head. Gibbs _never_ wanted to see this sight again.

"I can't lose another family member Tony. Not after Shannon and Kelly."

Tony's head shot up and his eyes locked with Gibbs, searching the man and finding nothing but the truth. He couldn't believe what just heard.

Gibbs stepped even closer, until he was only a few meters away from Tony. He let out his hand. "Give me the gun, son." he spoke softly.

Tony held the intense gaze for a few more moments, trying to find a fraction of mistruth, but he ultimately failed. He sniffled and his lip quivered. With tears welling in his eyes, he slowly, but surely, removed the gun from his temple. Gibbs didn't even wait until it was in his palm. He grabbed the gun, yanking it out of his hold, before dropping it on the floor. He grabbed his agent's collar and pulled him into a tight embrace. Tony buried his face in the crook of Gibbs's neck, eyes wide with unbelief. His legs gave out and Gibbs gently lowered them to the floor, propping his back to the wall with his arms full. Gibbs kicked the gun away as soon as they were down, making it slide all the way across the room. Tony was nestled in-between Gibbs's legs, head resting on his collar bone. Gibbs securely wrapped his arms around the younger man, gently rocking them both whilst whispering sweet nothings. His nose was planted in the scruffy brown mop of hair, in which he caressed and raked his hand through. Tony made no sound. Not even a peep.

"I give you permission to cry," he whispered to the boy, knowing he needed a reason.

And that's when the dam broke. Gibbs's warm tender voice washed over him and he let out an anguish cry. He buried his face into the man's older chest, fisting his shirt in his hands and clutching onto him as though he were a lifeline. Except this time he didn't swallow or silence his cry as he was taught to when he was young. He cried vocally, and that alone made Gibbs's heart wrench.

"Let it out, Tony." He whispered again, kissing the top of his head and rubbing his back. "Let it go, son."

Tony cried harder. He let out everything that was kept bottled up and ignored. The amazing thing was that he wasn't even embarrassed for crying on his boss like a two year-old. No one's ever held him before, told him to let it out and that everything was going to be okay. No one, not even himself, believed that he could muster the strength and fight another day until he wouldn't need to fight anymore. But Gibbs wasn't anybody, and he sure as hell wasn't himself.

With every cry, sob, and whimper, Gibbs tightened his hold, but not enough to hurt him. Just enough to keep him grounded and reassured that he was here. They stayed there until Tony stopped crying. He nuzzled his face into the crook of Gibbs's neck, welcoming the smell of sawdust, safety, and home. Silence filled the room. Gibbs continued to repeatedly caress the hair out of his eyes, planting a lingering kiss on the younger man's forehead. Gibbs pushed out the mental images that bombarded his mind, and praised and thanked God that he didn't arrive a second late.

_TBC..._


	4. Chapter 4

Previous disclaimers and warnings apply.

Including that this chappie contains a lot of fluff.

* * *

><p>They were going home.<p>

Every minute or so, Gibbs would glance at his Senior Field Agent through the front-view mirror. Tony was laid down on top of the backseat. His face was turned the other way and all Gibbs saw was the back of his head. He wasn't sure if the still form was sleeping or if he was introspecting. Whatever it was, Gibbs just hoped it was the healthier option. The boy had suffered enough.

When they had reached their destination, Gibbs got out of the car. He opened the door and his eyes instantly met a familiar bedraggled mop of brown hair. Tony's eyes were closed, but Gibbs's gut told him he wasn't sleeping. His breathing was too irregular.

Gibbs gently shook his shoulder. "DiNozzo," he whispered, "we're here."

Tony slowly lifted his eyelids revealing somnolent olive-green orbs. He shifted his body and ambled out of the car. Gibbs immediately wrapped an arm around his waist and took the younger man's arm and swathed it around his neck, noting how light he was. When they arrived at the front porch Gibbs kicked the door open and steadily took his agent to the nearby couch. He didn't allow the younger man to slump, but to slowly sink down into the cushions. Gibbs then seated himself next to Tony. After a moment of silence, Gibbs's voice cut through the air, effectively breaking it.

"We need to talk."

Tony closed his eyes and resisted the urge to groan. There was no escaping Gibbs. And the suckiest part about it was that he couldn't say "I don't wanna talk about it" or "leave me alone" because he almost blew his brains out in front of his Boss. For a brief moment, Tony regretted giving up the gun in the first place.

"Boss," he started," I'm f-

"God help me if you utter the word 'fine.'" Gibbs growled. "You are not fine DiNozzo!"

The old Tony would have said, _but I will be, _but he wasn't the old Tony anymore. The new one didn't respond yet and looked down. The new one was tired of wearing the same façade every damn day. The new one was fed up.

"Then what do you want me to _say_, Gibbs?" He dejected.

Gibbs's gaze was stern. "I want you to move on, but that isn't gonna happen until we _talk_ about it. I need you to tell me everything that lead you to almost ending your life."

The shake of his head was instinctual. But what came out his mouth shocked himself.

"No."

It was a simple two-letter, one syllable word, and yet it defied Gibbs's order.

However, Gibbs wasn't surprised at his reticence. The young man's mask of displaying superhuman strength had come crumbling down. Ofcourse he would logically deny any situation that would make him vulnerable. It was expected.

"Look at me," he spoke.

He waited until the younger man did.

"If you keep this bottled up inside it's only going to get worse."

Tony bit back a _how?_ and settle with,

"I can't."

Gibbs nodded, sensing a déjà vu. "Yes you can."

Gibbs kindled a flame. Suddenly, all the sadness and depression turned into anger. "I said I can't dammit!" He fulminated. "What the hell do you want me to say? That I really AM a disappointment? That I'm- that I'm a fucked up human being!?"

"That's not true," Gibbs argued calmly.

"The hell it isn't," he spat.

"Yeah, it isn't!" The calmness seeped away and irate conviction took its place. "I _never_ meant what I said! You are NOT a disappointment, you hear me?"

Gibbs watched Tony stand up. "Yeah I hear you," he said splenetically, "I just don't believe you."

When he tried marching away, Gibbs's hand shot out and grabbed his arm. The fabric of his long sleeve pressed into the raw flesh and it let out a stinging roar. He let out a hiss and immediately regretted it when Gibbs's expression morphed into something inscrutable. Gibbs immediately shifted his hand from Tony's arm to his wrist and pulled him closer. Tony struggled wildly when he felt his Boss try to peel away his long sleeve. He pounded his fist against his chest and tried to push his Boss away with his free hand, but because he was emaciated, his efforts were futile. Gibbs blinked solemnly at the red, angry, large scars that littered his agents arm. They both were silent for an interminable length. Gibbs put his other hand on Tony's shoulder, applying a little pressure, and Tony slumped down on the couch when he got the message. Gibbs disappeared.

He was pretty sure things just got worse. Tony sat there on the couch with _both_ his sleeves now rolled up. He gave up the fight and sat there feeling defeated, bare, and _raw._

Gibbs came back and set the medical supplies on the coffee table and resumed his position next to him. The older man's quiescence made him gulp in trepidation. Gibbs slipped his hand under the back of Tony's head and brought it to rest on his sternum. That way it provided solace for the younger man and himself, and he had better, closer access to Tony's…wounds. Once again he was reminded that his agent's mental wounds were so strong that it manifested into physical ones.

Gibbs soaked a cotton swab with Hydrogen Peroxide and gently dabbed it on the scars. When he was done he poured a generous amount of antibacterial ointment on a large set of pressure bandages. He then began wrapping both of his agent's arms. Any deeper and Tony would have needed stitches.

"Why are you doing this?" Tony mumbled from his chest.

"To help you." Gibbs settled with. There were so many things to say. _Because I hurt you enough, because you're my agent, because I'm supposed to have your six-_

"I don't want your pity," Tony muttered bitterly. When his head lifted from his chest to move away, Gibbs hand shot up and pushed it back to its proper place. Tony's eyes widened.

"I don't pity you," Gibbs spoke softly but truthfully, tucking Tony's head underneath his chin. "I let my temper get the best of me. You didn't ask for help but you needed it. All you needed was help, and instead of watching your six, I…" Tony raised his head and looked at Gibbs, baffled. He didn't know the man's voice was capable of being filled with such emotion… Gibbs looked down and straight into his eyes, his voice held every single ounce of truth. "I said it once and I'll say it again; you're irreplaceable." All the gratitude, love, joy, and pride went into that one word.

Tony bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. He understood what the man was asking for. That's the one Tony was confident in, the ability to understand Gibbs when others couldn't even take a simple guess.

"I, uh, forgive ya Boss."

Gibbs gave him one of those rare smiles you come across five or six times in a lifetime. And Tony took the brave chance of embracing the older man while they were both still emotional for the time being. But the funny thing was that Tony didn't care how childish he was acting. For once he didn't deny what he needed and full-on accept it instead.

Gibbs rested his cheek on top of Tony's head, while continuing to bandage his arms. He knew that he didn't deserve Tony's forgiveness, but he was grateful he got it anyway. When he was finished, Gibbs looked down at his agent and smiled fondly when he tried to keep his eyes open. Gibbs instinctively placed a paternal kiss in the brown hair and froze in panic, but when Tony didn't do or say anything he relaxed. He rose up and helped Tony get on his feet.

"Okay DiNozzo," he whispered," let's get you in bed."

Tony smiled his first genuine smile in… he doesn't know how long. "Didn't know you swung that way, Boss."

That familiar mischievous voice was mellifluous to his ears. Gibbs smirked and temporarily removed his arm from Tony's waist, and delivered a swift head slap, although, it was much gentler than usual.

Once they reached the guest bedroom, Gibbs lowered Tony to the bed. He then took off his agent's shoes, bloodied shirt, and such. Gibbs then covered DiNozzo's body with the blanket, tucking it up to his chin. He threaded his hand through his hair, and watched how Tony's eyes shut, welcoming slumber for the first time since God knows when. He remembered his first child Kelly and how he lost her, and how he was so _close_ to losing his other one. With that thought in mind, Gibbs lowered himself and whispered, "Tony," into his ear. "We're still gonna talk about what happened tomorrow."

Tony shifted and mumbled, "M'kay Boss."

With one final glance at the sleeping form, he left the door slightly ajar, and retreated downstairs.

All would soon be well.

**Le Fin**…. Sorta?

I uh, *scratches head and laughs nervously * don't know if I should continue this? All I know is that I'm happy with it…I don't know what else to write, but if you, my lovely readers, have any ideas and want me to continue, please let me know. I thank EVERYONE who read, favorited, followed, and/or reviewed. I couldn't have done this without you. Seriously, you guys rock. And if you thought that that was too much fluff, I have one thing to say to you… THERE IS NO SUCH THING! :P

Take care, guys.

SheLovesGreenTea out!


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